


I'm sorry

by mongooseface



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Abstract, Angst, Character Death, Heavy Angst, M/M, Suicide, but idk it's up to you, it can be read as shippy if you want to, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 22:53:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17990018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mongooseface/pseuds/mongooseface
Summary: My mind is a prison and I am the inmate. What good is my life if I can't escape?~This is entirely a vent fic and is a bit jumbled and messy but oh well (sorry tyler). It's written in emotions not necessarily words so I'm sorry if it is confusing.I needed to write this for myself and if other people want to read it then go ahead~





	I'm sorry

I can feel it around me, that feeling of nothingness. The void. Its outstretched hands reaching out to pull me back into the darkness whenever I turn my back. I can feel its fingers, cold and dark and empty, against my skin. The presence of it being close to only what i could assume to be death itself. I try to never let it get too close and for t to make me into just another husk of a man, left to be forgotten and alone. When I feel its cold and shaky whispers creep into my ear, I make sure to run.

* * *

 Sometimes I want to give up. To scream to the sky begging for guidance, to be shown that this endless monotony of running from myself isn't the way that I have to live. That I have somehow strayed from God's path and that his light will shine upon me again. Deep down though, I know that he won't answer my calls. I am alone in this and no God can save me now.

* * *

 Often the crippling feeling of loneliness gets overwhelming. Its hardly surprising given the circumstances. Each day stuck in an endless cycle of walking through a single grey corridor that seems to have no end. It feels like I am just aimlessly walking forward towards a myth of freedom and hope that I only know of because of voices carried by the wind. They talk of salvation  and joy but I know that they will not come for me. I will be long gone before it it my time for a guiding hand out of this prison.

* * *

 The only thing that keeps me alive through this mind breaking cycle of self torture is him. I see him sometimes trough windows to the outside. I find myself focusing on his laugh and the way that his eyes squint from pure happiness. The deep echoing bangs from his drum kit when he it practising and the look of focus mixed with an almost childlike glee when he is performing. The flashes of bright hair, changing like the seasons providing a glimpse into what life could be like. He is what keeps me sane here and he doesn't even realise.

* * *

I can't do this anymore. Fuck the endless cycle. If this is how life is meant to be lived for me then I don't want to do it. I'm never going to escape from this darkness into the light. He is as much a ghost as I am a shadow and I can't take it anymore. I need to get out, I need to be the person that I show on the outside but I can't do it. It won't let me be free. No matter how much I sob or beg, I am still caged here like an animal. I can fight until my hands are bloodied and broken

or I can stop.

I know that there is only one way.

* * *

 For the first time since I arrived here, a feeling of calm settles in my stomach. I didn't have to be afraid anymore. I turn towards the darkness and sit on the floor watching and waiting as the still of the abyss slowly transformed. It was no longer the unnerving yet tranquil beast that I had known before. Now it was a large pulsating mass that took up all of my vision as it slowly crept towards me. Distantly I could hear shouts of my name from the darkness. I know he is there, outside, begging and pleading for me to stop this and to come back to him. He doesn't want me to give in, and screams that he needs me to keep on going. He talks of a door, a sign, an exit, just creating possibilities to try and get me to hold on for a few minutes longer than I had.

                                                                     But I can't.

I can't keep this torture going.

It hurts.

            Why does it have to hurt so much?

Hungry growls begin to drown out frantic crying from my light. I am alone again.

Then something snaps. Right as the coldness of death begins to crawl up my skin my heart changes. I can hear him again, he is here with me. Holding me close and praying that I will make it through this. This isn't how I planned it, no this isn't what I want! My desperate attempts to scramble away from this monster surrounding my head and thoughts prove fruitless. I cant think straight, I'm not in control. 

* * *

 Dying is an odd feeling.

It isn't like everyone tells you. It isn't bright lights and angel wings, no, its just nothing. The knowing that I am falling backwards into what I know to be the solitude of death feels crushing on my chest, like i'm choking on smoke. The more I try and scream, the more it enters my lungs and slowly suffocates me. Through this I can't stop thinking of his eyes. The panic and horror that appeared on his face when he saw me bleeding out on the kitchen floor. He doesn't deserve that. However that thought of him is gone too soon, replaced by the agony of death and soon after, nothing. I am gone.

I'm sorry.

 


End file.
